A New Class in Home Schooling

While I respect those who do, I never considered home schooling for my kids. My children are the types who are far better behaved for strangers than they are for their own parents. That's okay. It beats the alternative. Every time I volunteer in one of their classrooms I have to remember to shut my trap upon leaving for I've usually spent the entire time in open mouthed wonder: their teachers are magicians who with the wave of an arm cause twenty children to form a line, quietly put away books and work together without physical altercation. It takes me half an hour to get my kids in the car.

There are, however, plenty of teaching moments at home, and those are not lost on me. No trip to the grocery store is complete without an impromptu math lesson. As much as I despise the Pokemon craze my 7-year-old slipped under the house radar last week, he uses every phonics skill available when attempting to read their ridiculous sounding names. When my newly four-year-old daughter envied her friend's Barbie Mariposa doll, I grabbed the opportunity for a quickie Spanish lesson: Do you know what mariposa means in Spanish? She looked at her friend's doll with the large, multicolored wings then rolled her eyes at me. That's right honey, mariposa means butterfly! It was disheartening to learn that parental embarrassment can start as early as preschool.

The latest addition to our home schooling catalog has been civics, as introduced by my son. While I was learning my letters in the first grade, he is learning the meaning of democracy. I applaud the efforts of the schools, particularly as this is a major election year. Where I have a problem, is that he tries to apply what he has learned at home. "I think we should all get a chance to choose a dinner each week. That's more dem-o-crat-ic." I pat his little head and whisper a silent prayer of thanks that he didn't see it as another opportunity to talk about the HP of Bulbasaur (see earlier Pokemon reference).

The theory of one person - one vote does not work in an autocracy, and that my friends, is what makes this family hum. It calls for a single, self-appointed ruler, and as the adult who spends the most waking hours in this house and so few of them alone, I grab the title with both hands. If I have to find the recipe, shop for it, and cook it, it's going to be whatever I feel like making. The beds are made every morning not because it keeps the sheets cleaner, but because that's how I like it. My daughter, who believes Cinderella is real because we had breakfast with her in Disney, calls me the Queen. I see no reason not to indulge her childhood fantasies. (I also look good in a tiara).

Speaking of my daughter, she is causing yet another addition to the home school lineup: Negotiation Skills 101. This is a much needed refresher course for me. My husband is in sales and does this on a daily basis, but I suspect with less worthy advesaries. When she is ready for her lunch dessert, a mini-meal of her own creation, she no longer assumes she must finish the food before her. Instead she asks, "How many bites?" The stare down begins. Four! I say, referring to the meager hunk of cheese sandwich left on her plate. When her eyes light up and her chipmunk cheeks swell with pride, I know I shot too low. If I were to pick too great a number, the negotiations begin. "How about three?" she might say, through a mouthful of gnashed carrots. Then the game begins.

I have always said I hoped to raise children who were strong in spirit and confident in mind; then my son turned seven. He is the reason Advanced Negotiations will be added to the curriculum next. We practice every afternoon when the homework versus playtime debate begins. Autocrat or not, very little I say is accepted as an unbreakable law. Thankfully he offers more than a whiny "Why?" in response to a rejection and usually has a perfectly reasonable alternative to any request I make of him. He should be allowed out to play after school because the light is fading, or a friend is available, or he fears his light saber will loose its power if it remains idle for a day.

But parenting is no place for power sharing. They can try to assert their own miniature versions of authority, but in the end, Mama's rules will reign. I may afford them an occasional glimpse of victory, but teeth will be brushed after every meal, there will be green food on their plate at dinner, and rodents will never be considered pet-worthy. At least until the graduate level course in Childhood Reverse Psychology is introduced next semester.